By Any Other Name
by Crysania
Summary: In his search for Belle, Gold finally meets up with Lacey, her new alter ego. She is not quite what he expected. This is based off one line in the promo for episode 2x19 "Lacey" (So semi-spoilers for that!)


"That sounds like Lacey," the bar tender had said. Lacey. Just who on earth was Lacey? Ever since he had heard Belle had gotten out of the hospital he had been looking for her. She wasn't at the library. That had remained closed ever since the "accident." She hadn't been staying at the apartment above it either as it was apparent nothing had been touched since she left it some weeks ago when he picked her up there to head to the town line.

Granny had claimed not to have seen her and there was no evidence she had been staying at the Inn above her diner. He knew because he tore apart each and every room, forcing doors open when he was too impatient to find the right key, disturbing his son's fiancée while she was having some sort of argument with that Greg character, the out-of-towner. He had glared at Granny as he left the diner, telling her to forget her rent for the next month and use the money to clean up the mess he had made.

She had been _nowhere._ And he was desperate. So very very desperate.

Finally Ruby had run after him, a somewhat sheepish grin on her face. "I think I've seen her Gold." She believed she was hanging around at The Rabbit Hole, a somewhat less than stellar bar on the outskirts of town. Gold knew of it, of course. But he had never been there, had never felt the need to set foot in such a place.

And yet here he was, the bartender telling him he might want to talk to a woman named Lacey. "She's in back, playin' pool with the guys like she is every Friday night. Quite the shark that one." The man laughed lightly and reached out a hand to touch him on the shoulder. "Don't let her take you Gold. She plays pool with the best of 'em."

Gold shook the man's hand off and, gripping his cane tightly in one hand, strode unevenly to the back room. He would give this "Lacey" a good look-see and then be on his way to continue his search.

Only…what he found there was not what he expected. The woman was bent low over the table, eyes focused as she expertly broke at the beginning of a game. Two balls immediately went into pockets and she stood up suddenly, blowing off the tip of the pool cue with overly-done lips, like she had just taken a shot with a rifle and needed to blow away the smoke.

"Oh boy, Jake, you got taken!" one of the young men in the room said, clapping his equally young and rather dismayed looking friend on his shoulder.

Gold didn't care about them though. They could have disappeared into a puff a smoke (would have, too, if the woman in the room hadn't shocked him into forgetting everything he was). There, right there, dressed in an outfit that showed off far more than he ever expected to see of her, back bare except for the bra that peeked out from her tiny dress, was Belle. _His_ Belle. Wearing an expression the likes of which he'd never seen before.

"Belle?" he murmured and her eyes, those same brilliant blue eyes he knew oh so well, finally turned on him.

"It's Lacey, love." Her voice was confident as one hand went to her hip and she eyed him up and down.

"You want me to get rid of this geezer, Lace?" one of the young men said, swaggering up to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

For that he got a rather brutal slap on the arm from a cane that went quickly from support to weapon in Gold's hand. He tried to stop the reaction. He knew Belle wouldn't want him to attack her friends, even if they got a little overly friendly with her. But it was natural, that anger, that hate, that possessive streak he never knew he had until he found her.

He stopped at the one hit and contrite, brought the cane back under him. Taking a deep breath, he couldn't even meet her eyes. "I'm…sorry." The words he spoke were soft, slightly hesitant. He didn't know what to make of all this. They called her "Lacey." She seemed to know who she was and yet who she was wasn't his Belle. He turned on his heels and walked as gracefully out of the back room as possible. He didn't want to see the gloating looks on the young men's faces as the "old geezer" went on his way. He didn't want to see Belle's look of horror at his anger. He'd never change. He _couldn't_ change. Not like she wanted him to. He so very much wanted to be the person who was worthy of her love, but he never could quite get there. The hair-trigger temper, the violence, it was just all a part of who he was, who he had _become_ after hundreds of years of being tied to the Dark One. Like a parasite, it had wormed its way into his heart and soul and twisted everything to suit its own needs. He wasn't sure they could ever remove that parasite without killing him and even if they _did_, he was sure that it had permanently left its mark on his soul.

He was almost out the door before the rage really took him, before he felt it well up inside him. He didn't stop it this time and let it overwhelm him. The cane came up, his new weapon of choice when magic was so unpredictable in this land. He let it slam down on the wall near the door. The bartender nearly leapt the bar to get to him to stop him, but he rounded on him, cane whipping out in front as he snarled something incoherent, and the man backed off. He swiped glasses off tables, sent a table and two chairs to their demise before stumbling out the door and taking vicious swipes at his own car.

_He was her protector. He left her. They were supposed to keep her safe._ Each sound of the cane hitting the car, leaving dents, was satisfying. The sound of the windows breaking was like music to his soul.

When he finally came up for air, when he finally felt some of the incoherent fury leave him, he slumped forward, the silence after his rampage sudden and shocking.

He never heard her follow him out, never knew she was there until he heard a small shuffling noise behind him. Straightening, he gripped the cane, ready for anything that might come, and turned. He was stunned into frozen silence at the sight of Belle leaning against the building, one hand still on her hip, a strange smile on her face.

As soon as he noticed her she pushed away from the building and closed the gap between them. "You really _are_ as dark as people say."

One of his eyebrows shot up. "What?" His voice was soft, almost menacing.

"People…around town. They talk you know? And I listen, especially when they come here." She indicated the bar behind her with one manicured hand. "For some reason, Mr. Gold, they like to talk to me about _you_. I wonder why that is…" Her voice trailed off as one long fingernail trailed down his chest, alongside his impeccably-knotted tie. That same nail dipped in between the buttons of his shirt, scratching lightly across his skin and he drew in a sharp breath.

"I…don't know…" He was sure that he knew, somehow, really. No…not quite that. He didn't even know what he was supposed to know. Not when her finger was so lightly circling the bare skin beneath his shirt, not when she was leaning so close to him. He could feel her breath on his face, her heels having brought her nearly to the same height as he. He had never been quite so glad to not be tall. There was little better than being on eye level with his Belle as she did marvelous things to him like she was doing at that very moment.

"I think you do." The words were murmured, her lips barely moving as her eyes focused lower. Suddenly both hands were on his lapels and she was turning him, fast, almost faster than his bad foot could handle. The cane hit the ground at almost the same time his back hit the wall of the building.

And then she was on him, her lips locked on his, her hands still fisted in his suit jacket.

He was lost. Completely, irrevocably, totally lost. He tried to remember this was Belle. His Belle. Oh did he try. Belle was pure. She was kind. The kisses they shared had been sweet and slow, soft. He never pushed her, kept himself in check no matter how he might have wanted to push for more. He took things at her pace. Always at her pace. But now? Now his Belle had him slammed up against a wall, her mouth slanted over his.

When he gave an involuntary gasp as she undid one of the buttons of his shirt and slipped her hand inside to run over his chest, she took advantage, meeting his tongue with hers. He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her close, meeting each thrust of her tongue with his own.

She broke the kiss suddenly and for a moment he felt bereft, like he had lost all sense of himself, couldn't breathe. And then her lips were on his neck and he was sighing her name.

"That's _not_ my name." She bit him hard on the neck and he moaned. "Say my name."

He bit back a curse, knowing what she wanted. Names held power. It was something he always told people. Know their name and you have power over them.

"Say it," she ground out again, nipping his neck again lightly and then laving over the sting with her tongue.

"Lacey." He spit the word out at her, grabbing her shoulders roughly and turning her, his turn to be the aggressor, his turn to spin things to his advantage. When she hit the wall, he grabbed one long leg and pulled it up around his hips, leaving her open to him as her skirt rid up far on her thighs. Balanced on just one stiletto heel, she was forced to lean heavily against the building, his body anchoring her there as his lips crashed down on hers once again.

His right hand was entwined in her hair and his left pushed her leg further to the side and trailed up her inward thigh, tracing patterns against her bare skin as he ever so slowly slid the hand upward. Dipping beneath her skirt, he brushed up against her panties, just lightly, and was rewarded with a groan. She bucked her hips and he moved his hand suddenly away from her, lips leaving hers.

He was panting and he pressed up tight against her, knowing she could feel him, knowing _she_ would know how much he wanted her. "Rumple," he muttered.

"What?" She drew back slightly and looked at him and he hooked one finger under the lacey elastic of her panties.

"_My_ name. You used to call me Rumple." Her eyes widened. "I want _you_ to say it." He looked her in the eyes, saw hers widen as he slowly slipped one finger in between her folds, caressing her lightly, not quite giving her everything she needed. She whimpered beneath the touch, moving, trying to feel more, and his finger suddenly withdrew.

"My name dear. I will have _my name_." He wasn't some anonymous man she was trifling with, some fellow barfly who had his way with any woman who so much as looked at him. He was _her Rumple._ He was the man she had chosen, the one who even now, even with her cursed memories in place and with no trace of the Belle he had fallen in love with within her, she still was attracted to, still wanted, still could not resist. True love and all its foibles. Regina hadn't seen that one coming, did she?

His name came softly from her lips and he teased her further, dipping one long finger into her, finding that place deep within her that made her tremble. Oh he had never done this with Belle, not _his_ Belle at least. But this incarnation seemed to have dropped her inhibitions, seemed willing to let him cross those boundaries they had wordlessly set for themselves.

"Say it again, sweetheart." The pet name still came so easily to him.

"Rumple." Her face was buried in the crook of his shoulder and he could feel the sound vibrations against his neck, feel her breath fanning out across his skin.

"Yes." He dipped two fingers in her, her wetness enfolding them. Dragging them up he found her clit and rubbed around it, delicately circling it, soft and slow, teasing. "I want to hear _my name_ on your lips when you come." And then he applied more pressure, moved faster.

She cried out and he could feel her whole body trembling beneath him. "Faster…please…" He didn't change the pace, waiting. "Oh Rumple." And he did as she demanded, increasing the pace, giving her more pressure, occasionally taking his hand away from her clit to plunge a finger or two or three deep into her.

When he felt she was taut, close, he leaned forward and bit softly into her neck. And then she came undone, his name bursting from her lips as her whole body quaked beneath him. He swallowed her cries with a rough kiss, his hand leaving her and entwining with the other in her hair as she came down from the high of her orgasm.

Finally, he broke the kiss, and let her go, backing up. She leaned heavily against the wall, her whole body having gone limp.

He glanced around them, glad to see no one was there to see what he had just done. What _they_ had just done. _Dear Gods. _He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling very awkward. _If she comes back to herself, she may never forgive you_.

"I think I should take you home."

"Your home?" The flirtatiousness had not left her voice, even if she sounded far more breathless than before.

He shook his head, somewhat sadly. "No…Lacey. I think I should take you to _your_ home. And leave you there…alone."

She nodded at him and her voice was somewhat shaky when she spoke again. "I think that might be a good idea."

And he smiled, somewhat sadly, at her, as he led her to the now-battered car to drive her to where ever she might be calling home these days. His Belle was gone, maybe forever, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of this new incarnation who was so obviously attracted to the side of him that Belle had not been. It was worrying, a bit troublesome, and it left him feeling strangely bereft and unsure of himself. He needed to talk to someone, needed advice, and as much as it pained him to consider it, he knew only one person he could go to and ask.

He tried not to smirk as he imagined Charming's reaction to this little escapade tonight . Oh yes…life had just gotten _very_ interesting for him.


End file.
